Do you ever just want to be left alone?
Two or three times a year, I start to crave solitude. Away-from-my-home, apart-from-people-I-know, wanting-to-get-lost-in-a-crowd alone time.
These cravings are not spurred by frustration or anger. I am as grateful as ever for my loving family and friends and fabulous job and colleagues. I think it's a matter of delayed sensory overload, or maybe performance exhaustion, the kind Broadway folks get after a hit show runs eight times a week for a year.
My wonderful, fellow Piscean husband gets this. So when I asked for some time alone in a hotel for a birthday gift (again), he not only granted it, he made the reservations. His first inclination was to put me up in a beautiful hotel in the middle of an upscale shopping center nearby, but I knew that locale would only lead to a binge purchase at Barnes and Noble and several other stores.
No, this time I didn't want my weekend sabbatical to be about shopping. It's a "big" birthday, and I have a lot of thinking and writing and reading to do. So I'm not going far--just around the corner from my neighborhood--but distanced enough from laundry piles and dirty dishes and others' comings and goings.
This would-be hermit still wants to celebrate the occasion. Singing "Happy Birthday" to oneself sounds glum, so my family will be joining me for dinner in the middle of my self-imposed retreat. Then it's back to the hotel, alone with my thoughts.
I wonder what my Slices will be like this weekend?